A Mortal Bane(102)

“Not impossible at all, but when I told him of the murder, I will swear he was much overset.”

“Pooh, pooh.” Guiscard made a brushing gesture. “That Beaumeis is a sneaking, sly creature given to pretense. You should have heard him whining and pleading for the bishop to ordain him before Christmas so that he could be in orders before the holy day. You would have believed him of the most ardent faith.”

“I do not think him very religious, but—”

“Clearly not if he was a common frequenter of your house,” Guiscard said, this time not forgetting his moue of distaste.

“But,” Magdalene continued, ignoring the clerk’s remark, “if he is so fine a pretender as you say, he may well be able to convince others of his innocence. It will not be enough simply to accuse him. Moreover, those who know of the interrupted ordination may well know the true cause. Might they not think this accusation against Beaumeis was bred by spite on the bishop’s part?”

“I would not be so quick to defend Richard de Beaumeis or to accuse the bishop of spite if I were you,” Guiscard snapped. “The Bishop of Winchester does not love Beaumeis, and you would be gutted and hung already if the bishop were not protecting you.”

The threat to tell Winchester that Beaumeis was a client she was trying to protect was implicit behind the angry statement. “I was not defending Beaumeis,” Magdalene protested. “He may well be guilty. And I am well aware of my debt to the Bishop of Winchester. What I do not want to see is Beaumeis escape and the bishop’s name be besmirched because of an accusation without proof.”

[page]“What more proof is needed than the harm he has already done?” Guiscard asked bitterly. “That ungrateful little cur conspired with Lord Winchester’s enemies to keep him from being archbishop. Who can say Beaumeis would not kill to prevent the bishop from receiving an even greater honor?”

Magdalene was surprised by Guiscard’s sincere anger and regret over the loss of the archbishopric and the possibility that Beaumeis had taken the papal bull. She had not thought Guiscard so attached to his master.

“Unless you wish this to come to empty counteraccusations,” she pointed out, “there must be real proof. Beaumeis claims he was on the road to Canterbury on Wednesday night. If he can bring witnesses, would not that make the bishop look a fool or worse?”

Guiscard stared at her, rage and disappointment mingling in his expression. “It is not possible! He must have lied!” he exclaimed.

“Perhaps he did, but if so, witnesses must be found to say he was still in Southwark, or he must be brought to confess his crime. It is not enough to say he is guilty. That is why I came to tell Sir Bellamy that Beaumeis had been at my house, that he was sore overset by the news of Messer Baldassare’s death, and that if he were straitly questioned soon, he might speak more truth than he intended. Will you not pass that message to Sir Bellamy as soon as possible?”

The secretary’s expression grew eager and hopeful as she spoke, and he even unbent so far as to nod agreement. Plainly, he was looking forward to offering up Beaumeis to the bishop as the man who killed Baldassare.

“And where is Sir Bellamy to seek for Beaumeis, since you say he is no longer in your house?”

“He might still be at the church of St. Mary Overy. He kept saying he could not believe that Messer Baldassare was dead and rushed off to see the body when I told him it was laid out in the chapel of St. Mary Overy church. If he is gone from there, I do not know, unless…of course, someone at St. Paul’s will have the directions of their deacons, but I am not sure Sir Bellamy knows Beaumeis is tied to St. Paul’s. You will tell him that, too, will you not?”